


The Secret Admirer

by Kummerspeck7



Category: Royal Pains
Genre: Drunken Kissing, Drunken Shenanigans, Drunkenness, Language of Flowers, M/M, Secret Admirer, Secret Crush
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-17
Updated: 2017-08-17
Packaged: 2018-12-16 14:31:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,006
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11830710
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kummerspeck7/pseuds/Kummerspeck7
Summary: Prompt #16 on Tumblr by CirellyandwordsHank goes to O'Malley's for a beer after work. He wakes up the next morning remembering a torrid night of passion, but not who with. And now flowers won't stop showing up on the doorstep.





	The Secret Admirer

It all started with a note by my bedside on Saturday morning. Well, that's when the part I remember starts. It technically started the night before, when Keller wanted to grab a beer at O’Malley's. Only after several drinks did he mention there was a team beer pong contest that he'd entered us in. I tried to argue, but there was a thousand dollar prize, it was a Friday night, I was goaded into it. Honestly, everything after that was a blur. I woke up in the morning to a head that felt much better than I deserved, and a glass of water with a letter propped up on my bedside table. 

I gratefully took the water, remembering a voice teasing me. ‘You'll want this in the morning’, then later ‘you're a doctor, how do you not have a supply of aspirin?’. I could remember the words, but not the voice or face. I didn't make a habit of bringing women home, but I must have made an exception.

It was a shame I couldn't remember anything about her. I assumed it was a her, I hadn't been with a man in a long time, not since my residency. I thanked her in my head as I took a long drink, then turned my attention to the letter.

Hank-  
My apologies for leaving in the night, I had work to attend to. Despite your numerous assurances, I'm fairly certain you will have limited memories of our time together.   
I took the thousand dollars you won and invested it for you. When you remember who I am, it will pay off in dividends.  
Yours

The script on the letter was elegant, so I was probably right in my assumption a woman had written it. I wracked my brain, but it was mostly black. Lying back on the pillows, I tried to narrow it down. A subtle scent still clung to the second pillow, vaguely familiar as it tickled my senses. I closed my eyes and remembered the feel of skin touching skin, running my hands up and down someone's back. The sound of laughter, breathing, moaning. But no face.

I couldn't try to figure out who my mystery woman was without something in my stomach. Throwing on a t shirt and basketball shorts, I made my way downstairs. Evan was in the kitchen, making French press and eggs. 

“Woah!” He shouted, or maybe my hangover was worse than I thought. “What happened to you?”

I rubbed my face in my hands before pouring myself some coffee. “I had a night.”

Evan raised an eyebrow. “The kind of night that involves what? You were still out when I got home at midnight.”

I took a long sip of the bitter brew. “Apparently I won a beer pong contest.”

Evan literally choked on his eggs. His eyes were like saucers. It was the same look the gave me as a kid when I learned to ride without training wheels, the same look he gave me the first time I came home breathless and euphoric because I'd saved someone's life. “Henry, you what?”

“I won a beer pong contest. With Keller. And--”

“-So you'll play with your old bully but not your favorite brother.” He interrupted, dourly. 

I sighed. “It was a mistake. But there's more.”

No matter how resolute Evan was in a pout, he loved information, especially when it was personal in nature. He raised an eyebrow. “I'm listening.”

“I took someone home. And I'm only telling you this because I have no idea who and I was wondering if you saw them leave?”

Evan nearly cackled. “Sorry, bro. I didn't see anyone. Have you asked Keller if he remembers anything?”

I shook my head. “Not yet. But that's my first stop.”

+&+&+

On Sunday morning, I opened the door to find two huge vases of flowers. Attached was a note-

This is coming out of your dividends. -Y

I wished, not for the first time, that I hadn't had so much to drink that night.

The drive to Keller's was surprisingly long, even for an East Hampton summer. I'd wanted to meet yesterday, but he was too hungover to do anything but ‘lay by his toilet and pray for the end’, as he phrased it in a text several hours later. I was anxious to find my mysterious partner from the night before. It was strange, I couldn't remember them but I missed them. I could remember feeling at ease with them, just not their face.

Finally I pulled up to Keller's and let myself in. His house certainly wasn't my style, but it was objectively very nice. I wandered through the halls until I found him, still laying on the couch in his pajamas, slowly nursing a soft drink.

“Ginger ale doesn't actually have ginger in it any more. It's not actually going to help. The sugar might even make you more queasy.” I stated matter-of-factly. 

He flipped me off as he grimaced. “You're lucky I'm alive or you'd be out a thirty five grand retainer. Now make me better.”

I laughed and sat down on one of the chairs flanking the couch. “Well I already told you to stop drinking that. Have some water and you'll be fine.”

He groaned. “I’m starting to understand why they fired the super Doc. So what did you want?”

“I went home with someone on Friday night. Any chance you remember who it was, or if I talked to anyone?” I asked, hoping he did.  
Finally he sat up, rubbed his hands through his hair a few times. “Let's see. There were two older women, one with blonde hair and one with red? But I thought they were together.”

I nodded. “Barb and Diana. They donate to the free clinic. Not them.”

He paused to think. “There was a bridal party that made you take a round of shots with them, but they left before we did.”

I stopped. “Wait, we left together?”

He nodded. “Yeah, we shared an Uber. I got dropped off first, so I don't know where you went after that.”

I almost groaned. A dead end, not what I had been hoping for. I thanked him and left after he coerced some aspirin out of me. I checked my phone logs, no outgoing texts or calls after eight that night. I wasn't ready to call it quits, but I was out of leads and still no closer to identifying my Secret Admirer.

+&+&+

On Monday morning, a huge vase of flowers appeared. 

On Tuesday, another one. 

On Wednesday, a fifth. 

I sat in the living room, the notes spread on the coffee table before me, flowers covering every other available surface. I was fixated and quickly becoming obsessed. I couldn't focus entirely on my patients, I had dreams about someone with gentle hands and beautiful eyes. Despite having them memorized, I read the notes again.

It will pay off in dividends.  
These are coming out of your dividends.  
Come find me.  
Work is work and liquor is liquor.  
All beginnings are hard.

They were definitely clues, but I couldn't figure out the answers. 

My attention was broken by Boris walking into the room. I'd completely forgotten our appointment, luckily it was right here. “It's good to see you.”

He nodded. “I was momentarily worried you had forgotten me, our appointment. Surely you must have patients with allergies.”

“I have been forgetful recently. Can you roll up your sleeve so I can take a few vials?” I frowned as I noticed a flower on his lapel. 

“Does something displease you, Hank?”

Embarrassed, I shook my head. “No, not at all. I'm just getting tired of flowers.”

Boris surveyed the room. “I find them convenient, myself. The meaning of Magnolia is royalty, and it's helpful to remind one's associates of one's resources occasionally.”

“Well it's a nice flower.” I said absently, starting to check his vitals.

He lifted an elegant eyebrow. “Should I come back later?”

I was filled with guilt. “No, it's just-I have a Secret Admirer. I'm trying to find them. They keep sending me these flowers and these cryptic notes. I can't seem to figure it out, even though I feel like it's right in front of my face.”

“Aller Antfang ist schwer, Hank.” Boris said, turning to observe a flower as he rolled his sleeve back down and fastened his cufflink.

+&+&+

On Thursday, more flowers arrived.  
In Friday, two more vases were on the doorstep.

I was bringing the second one into the house when Paige arrived.

“Wow.” She breathed. “Evan told me about your Secret Admirer.”

“Yeah.” I agreed, plucking a note off each vase. “Apparently I've forgotten a very memorable time.”

She slowly circled the room, stopping to lightly touch and smell the different flowers. Then she twittered one of her little laughs. “Apparently. What do you know about flowers?”

I shook my head. “Absolutely nothing. They need water. Some girls- Some people-” I corrected myself, thinking of the conversation I'd had with Boris a few days earlier “-seem to like them.”

Paige smiled. “Well, these are Forget Me Nots.”

I laughed. “Appropriate.”

“These next to them? They're Sweet Peas. Now that sounds straight forward, but they also have a meaning-’Thank you for a lovely time’.”

I laughed. “I wish I could remember it.”

Paige lifted an eyebrow. “Not as much as your Admirer wishes. Over here are tea roses, which mean 'I will never forget’. And those?” She said, pointing across the room. “Those are pink carnations. They mean 'I will never forget you’.”

I couldn't stop smiling. I felt energetic, the answer was right in front of me and it was starting to take shape. The cypher was solved. “Do you know what the other flowers are?”

Paige nibbled on her bottom lip excitedly. “Yep, these are Camellias. They mean ‘longing for you’. But these other vases, the ones you just brought in? They're different.”

“Different, how?” I asked. They were all flowers to me.

“Those are yellow poppies. They symbolizes wealth and success. And next to them is a vase of tiger lilies, those signify wealth and pride.”

I nodded. “Maybe it's a clue about the sender.”

Paige seemed as thrilled with our progress as I was. “I think it might be.”

While she gathered a bouquet to bring to her client, I sat down by my laptop and read the two newest notes.

Revelry is jolly  
Hangover is heavy

I looked up again only to find that Paige had already left. I made a mental note to thank her later. Opening Google, something was telling me to search the notes. They turned out to be two parts of the same saying. It was a Russian proverb, so someone Russian? I pulled out the other notes from my shirt pocket.

Work is work and liquor is liquor.

Google informed me that it was a German saying. Maybe it wasn't a clue, maybe my Secret Admirer had just picked proverbs about alcohol. Starting to deflate, I searched the last note.

All beginnings are hard… Aller Antfang ist schwer

Bells went off in my head. Where had I heard that?

Suddenly everything clicked. The flowers had meanings, I knew someone who knew flower meanings. Someone who had an entire greenhouse of flowers. Someone who worked in investments, who worked with dividends. Who spoke German, who would know old German proverbs. Who had quoted one of the notes in its original language without ever seeing it.  
It wasn't a woman. My Secret Admirer was Boris Kuester von Jurgens-Ratenicz.

+&+&+

I found Boris in his office, hands neatly folded behind his back, gazing out the window. As if he wasn't striking enough by himself, he looked completely at home in the sophisticated opulence of the room. Which did make sense, this was his home.

“It was you.” I breathed.

Slowly he nodded. “How did you figure it out?”

“The flowers. The meanings, the greenhouse. Using the German version of that proverb the same day the note came was a nice touch.” I complimented. Finally he turned around.

“It was.” He agreed. “I was starting to get concerned you remembered and were not interested in pursuing anything. So, Hank. Where do we go from here?”

It was an honest question, a direct one. A loaded one. Boris was not the kind of man to have a fling. He felt deeply, loved hard, was completely devoted. He and I were very similar like that. 

“I can't be your doctor and your romantic entanglement.” I cautioned.

He nodded. “I never needed you to be my doctor, Hank. I tried to tell you that in New York. I need a companion to make a judgement call and take power of attorney when my condition begins to affect my decision making. Any long term partner would work.”

I frowned. “Then why fight for my license? Why did you hire me?”

“You would have left without your practice, no? I took the relationship that you offered.” He paused, a twinkle in his eye. “And it is occasionally propitious to remind people there is always a bigger fish in the pond. Getting you fired was their pound of flesh.”

“Very efficient of you. Do you always get everything you want?” I teased him.

“No.” He replied softly, taking a step closer. The piercing blue of his eyes focused on mine. “I don't have you.”

I closed the distance between us, wrapping my arms around him and pulling his face to mine. His lips were soft, familiar, wonderful. His hands gently moved over my back, the subtle touch of his cologne filled my nose when I inhaled. He filled every sense, my entire world was just Boris in that moment.

He deepened the kiss, his tongue sweeping into my mouth. I responded in kind, pulling him harder to me. I could feel his strength beneath his fine suit. I ran my hands through his hair, something I'd been imagining since the first time I saw him emerging from his pool like a royal Baywatch lifeguard. After a long while, but not long enough for me, Boris pulled back.

“Does this feel like fate to you?” I asked him, still slightly dazed.

He shook his head. “I can't believe in fate, Hank. But I believe in opportunity, and I'm sincerely enjoying how this is working out.”

&-& One Week Earlier &-&

I was sitting on the beach watching the waves crash on the shore as the moon hung brightly above and the stars twinkled pleasantly. I wasn't sure of the time, perhaps it was around two or three in the morning. The wind off the ocean was bracing despite it being the middle of the summer.

The bottle of wine beside me was mostly empty. Very seldom did I drink in any real quantity, but I was feeling rather thoughtful. Indulgent. My thoughts turned to Hank, as they often did. He didn't know, but I had a small security team for him and his safety. His safety and mine. I'd become rather fond of him, overly fond, maybe even besotted was a better descriptor. His security informed me earlier that he was winning a beer pong competition at ‘the local watering hole’. They even attached a video.

I'd nearly run my battery out watching it again and again. It was not a Hank I got to see, he was effusive and carefree and competitive to a level I hadn't expected. He high fived the buffoon beside him, made a joke about using medical school hand eye coordination to make a shot. A very small part of me wished I could be there to see it. 

My Hank. Well, not mine. Not really. I'd breathed out a small sigh of relief when they'd informed me he was heading home alone. It wasn't like me to be jealous, but it also wasn't like me to indulge in a crush. Maybe I shouldn't have fired the mediocre Doctor Silver, at least I wouldn't have fallen for him. I took another drink of my wine.

My phone buzzed in the sand.

Blue skies approaching

Hank was near. My pulse quickened, much to my annoyance. I was far too old to be responding like this. He came into view a moment later, it pleased me to notice walking a mostly straight line. 

“Boris! What are you doing out here?” He asked exuberantly as he noticed me near the dunes.

I held up my empty bottle of wine. “Enjoying the air, Hank. How was your evening?”

He laughed as he came and sat down beside me in the sand. “I won a beer pong contest. It's a wild night! Well… Not compared to your parties. Wild for me.”

I shrugged. “I wouldn't know.”

Hank suddenly looked very serious. “I promise not to tell Evan. What is with your Gatsby thing? Not attending your own parties?”

“The ‘Gatsby thing’” I repeated, mostly to myself. His irreverence of my wealth and title was always refreshing. “Does that make you my Nick Caraway?”

He didn't answer. He was watching the waves crash on the shore. Then abruptly he turned to me.

“I've always been really careful. And you, you've always been careful. Maybe we should stop thinking so much and just... Live.” He moved closer to me, ran a finger down my jaw.

“You're very drunk, Hank. I don't want to lose you as my friend in the morning.” I cautioned.

“Boris?” 

“Yes?”

“Shut up and kiss me.”

And I did. I caught his face in my hands and dragged his lips to mine. He tasted like cheap American beer and I didn't even mind. There was fire in my veins and I desperately needed more. His hands ran through my hair, over my stubble. He took a sharp intake of breath as our lips separated for a moment, almost as if he were thinking about something, then crushed his mouth to mine again while his fingers pulled off my tie and tossed it away.

I deepened the kiss while Hank moved to straddle me and began unbuttoning my shirt. I was so certain this could never happen that I hadn't even imagined it, not that my imagination could compare to the feeling of his hands playing across my skin or the very obvious bulge pressed against my stomach.

He nibbled his way from my lips to my neck while he tugged at my shirt until it slid off my shoulders and puddled around my wrists. I let my hands move over his body, feeling the breadth of his shoulders, the trim line of his waist, until they rested against the belt loops of his jeans. 

“I want you so much.” He murmured while arching into my touch.

“Yes.” Was all I could manage in response as I cupped his ass in my hands and pulled him roughly against me.

He moaned in my ear then pushed me down in the sand. For a moment it was like looking at a painting, the stars and the moon and Hank above me. Then he pulled his shirt off with one hand and returned his lips to mine. I dragged him closer, groaning at the delicious friction of his erection rubbing against mine. 

“I've never wanted anything like I want you right now.” I confessed as his lips begin to trail down my neck.

His plans became self evident as he kissed down my torso, over my stomach, until his mouth met my belt buckle. One of his hands teased my erection through my trousers. I could barely think through the haze of lust clouding my judgement. It had been a long time since I'd had a lover, and I desperately wanted to feel his hands on my skin. Unfortunately, it seemed the alcohol was catching up to him. His fingers fumbled with my belt buckle, unable to remove it. It was a very unwelcome bucket of cold water to my libido. 

“Wait, wait. We should get you in the house.” I said, extricating myself from beneath him. 

“I like the sound of that.” He murmured seductively in my ear as I went to stand up. “Come to bed with me.”

“No, don't tempt me.” I said, running a finger regretfully over his exposed abs. “You're too drunk.”

“Mmm not.” He insisted with a slight slur. “I'm a doctor. I know things.”

I pulled my shirt back over my shoulders and began to button it. “When you're sober, I promise I will finish what I started.”

“Fine.” He grumbled. 

I scooped up his shirt and my tie while he started to walk back towards the guest house. Of course, he was walking in the wrong direction.

“Hank!” I called out. He turned back, looking confused. “The house is the other way.”

He nodded brashly. “I knew that.”

“Of course.” I agreed, taking his hand so he couldn't wander off.

It was rougher than I expected, now that I was paying attention. Lightly calloused and very dry. He needed some lotion.

I could take care of him. 

It was the same thought that made me ask him to move into the guest house, that made me save his medical license. He always seemed to put everyone else first. I could put him first. I had very real, very significant feelings for him. Someone should look after him, and why not me? 

“Ssh.” Hank nearly yelled as we neared the house. “Evan is home. I don't want him knowing I'm drunk.”

“Of course.” I whispered back while opening the door. Luckily the stairs were right next to the front door and it was only a short stumble to his room. 

“Stay the night?” Hank asked as we entered his bedroom. “Just to sleep. I want to finally know what it's like to wake up with you.”

I was intrigued. “Is that something you think about often?”

He just smiled and laid back against the pillows.

“Let me get you some water and aspirin first. You'll thank me for it in the morning.” I said, heading towards the bathroom.

“I'm out of aspirin.” He called out to me.

After filling a cup with tap water I returned to find him laying across the bed in nothing but his boxers. My mouth went dry as my eyes greedily took in the sight before me, but determination and decency prevailed.

“What kind of doctor doesn't have aspirin?” I asked as I put the glass of water on his bedside table.

“I never take medicine. I don't like how it makes me feel.” He said stoutly. 

“You don't like how they make you feel… Better?” I asked, considering removing my shirt to sleep. It was probably better not to give him ideas.

He frowned. “You sound like Evan.”

I climbed into the bed. In bed with Hank Lawson, what a turn for the night to take. “Well that's something I hope not to hear again.” 

“Hey, Boris?” Hank asked suddenly.

“Yes?” I answered as I turned out the bedside light.

“I really, really like you.” He muttered drowsily. “I like everything about you.”

“I like you very much as well.” I replied as I pulled him into my arms. 

He could change his mind in the morning, I reminded myself. He might not remember. Hank sighed as he leaned into my embrace, then quickly fell asleep. I laid there with him until dawn began to break, considering my options. I could leave and put it in it Fate’s hands, risking him not remembering any of this. I could stay until he awoke and risk a bad reaction from him in the morning.

Or.

I could put it in Hank's hands. I wrote him a note as the first morning light began to chase away the darkness. He couldn't resist a coy overture, he'd shown that to be true in more than one occasion. I left with a plan. This would not be the last time I held Doctor Hank Lawson in my arms.


End file.
